A Mother's Intuition
by DallaLuna
Summary: DH SPOILERS! Andromeda Tonks says goodbye to her daughter before the final battle.  Hastily written, slightly pointless angst.  Therapy for my complete and utter depression.


**Summary:** DH SPOILERS: Andromeda Tonks says goodbye to her daughter before the final battle. Hastily written, slightly pointless angst.

Depressing because I'm depressed. :(

* * *

Dora had been pacing for what seemed like an eternity.

The expressions on her heart-shaped face were as erratic as her hair color: one moment she looked fiercely determined, the next anxious, penitent, livid, heartbroken… Andromeda watched, edgily, taking a sip of her now-cold tea every now and then simply for the sake of doing _something_.

"I've got to—" Dora shook her head, almost regretfully, but pressed on. "Mum, I _have_ to go."

Her mother was silent for a tense moment.

"Not this again. We discussed this. You and Remus discussed this. You can't."

There hung in the air an unspoken allusion to the peacefully slumbering infant in the next room. Dora's shoulders slumped.

"I'm not…" The words caught in her throat. She shook her head wretchedly and tried again. "I love him. You know that. This has nothing to do with not loving him."

Andromeda knew that her daughter loved Teddy. She knew it was wrong to insinuate otherwise, but the temptation to use her grandson to keep Dora out of danger was too much for the woman to resist.

"I've lost my husband," Andromeda croaked, doing her best not to succumb to tears. "I'll not lose my daughter, too. Teddy deserves to have a mother."

Dora's face grew crimson. "Teddy deserves a mum he can be proud of! A mum who fights for what she believes! A mum who does what she knows is right!"

Her mother stared at her, glassy-eyed and unresponsive.

"It's about Remus, though. You're fooling no one. It's about Remus. It's about being with _him_. To hell with Teddy; to hell with me."

Andromeda had no idea where this vindictiveness came from. She just felt so—so hopelessly furious at all of it. Not Dora—bless her—or even Remus. Hers was the senseless anger of angsty teenagers: rage at the world, Fate, and the heartless higher being that allowed good people to fall as easily as the bad.

Dora was silent, wide-eyed and concerned; her appearance almost childish. "Mum?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that." Andromeda buried her face in her hands. "I'm so sorry."

"C'mon, Mum. Don't… It's alright." Dora laughed artificially. "I know I've said worse in the heat of the moment. It's alright. I know. _I know_."

Of course she did. Andromeda lifted her head, nodding slowly.

"I can't stop you," she whispered. "You're incorrigible, like your father. Go. I'll watch Teddy. And we'll be here—" Her voice broke, but she pressed on bravely. "—When you get back, we'll be here, waiting. Teddy will want to see his mummy when he wakes up, alright?"

Dora nodded her head violently, wiping away her tears as quickly as they fell. "Yeah. I'm just going to pop in… Tell him Mummy and Daddy love him."

Andromeda could not bring herself to smile approvingly. She merely grimaced.

Dora headed for the door to Teddy's room with a plain heaviness of movement. Andromeda felt a strangled pain in her throat.

_This might be the last time_… She hushed the thought; banished it to the back of her mind fervently.

"Mum?" The young woman had stopped. Her hands were clenched at her sides, and her head was bowed forward.

"Yes, Dora."

Andromeda could see her daughter steadying herself.

"If Remus and I don't come back, you'll take care of Teddy, won't you?" Her voice was strained, but resolute at the same time. "You'll tell him all about us, right? About his mum and dad, and how they loved him very much. And you'll never, _ever_ let him feel unloved. If we… He won't miss us too terribly, because he'll have you."

Andromeda could form no words. An odd sort of strangled cry escaped her, and she clapped her hand over her mouth.

"_Promise_," Dora insisted, turning on her heel. Her eyes had an almost maddened sort of resolve. "_Promise_."

Her mother sprang from her chair and threw her arms around Dora, rocking her back and forth, unwilling to even think of the impending moment when she would have to let go.

"Of course," Andromeda murmured, stroking Dora's hair. "I love you, Nymphadora. And I'll love Teddy so much that he won't be able to stand it."

Dora laughed genuinely through her tears. "You're mad. But I love you, too."

The embrace was at last broken, and the mother and daughter looked at each other for a moment. Dora seemed… _ready_. While Andromeda could hardly feel pleased, she at least felt reassured in her daughter's skill.

"Alright, alright. Off with you, then. Kiss your son and go," she ordered, surprising herself with the flippancy with which she managed the words.

Dora was smiling half-heartedly. "I can take a hint. I know when I'm not wanted."

Andromeda smiled, too—though she could hear her heart hammering in her head.

Her daughter shrugged a shoulder impishly. "Who knows? Maybe I'll be home in time for breakfast!"

Both laughed again. Andromeda could hardly bear to, but felt it her duty—for Dora's sake.

She watched her daughter go into Teddy's room despondently. She could not rid herself of the terrible lurking doubt; of the damnable little voice that hissed: _She's never coming back_.

Call it a mother's intuition. Andromeda Tonks would never see her Nymphadora again.


End file.
